So I’m planning to order the De La Hoya-Mayweather fight this Saturday on pay-per-view. I used to be a big boxing fan when I was growing up, but I haven’t followed it nearly as much in recent years. In fact, I’m pretty sure the last fight I saw on pay-per-view was the 1997 Mike Tyson-Evander Holyfield fight when Tyson bit off a chunk of Holyfield’s ear. I remember it so well because ... oh, right ... because Tyson bit off a dude’s ear. Anyway, with that as my means of measurement, I’m going to be pretty annoyed if no body parts are bitten off this Saturday. In fact, the only way I will be happy with the fight is if Mayweather bites out De La Hoya’s throat so he can never again release an album of Latin ballads. That doesn’t seem too much to ask for $49.95.

I enjoy irony. In fact, I would consider myself an ironyophile. (Note: That’s much different than an ironingophile. I freaking hate ironing. Iron, though? Not to shabby. I enjoy its sturdiness.) Where was I? Ah, yes ... irony. I enjoy it. That’s why I am enjoying the news of this San Antonio sports radio show guy who got canned for airing a skit about Allen Iverson in which Iverson seeks sex from a Mexican woman on San Antonio’s River Walk and then accidentally shoots a homeless illegal alien. Seems stupid. Should he have been fired for it? I have no idea. But it seems stupid. But where’s the irony here I so love? It’s from Mr. Iverson, who said of the skit: “For them to put out something like that is awful.” So true, Allen. Insensitive comments of any kind should not be allowed. In fact, anyone who says them should – to quote from your rap album – “get murdered in a second in the first degree. Come to me wit ****** tendencies. You’ll be sleepin where the maggots be.” How’s that for irony, homey? (Ooh! Ooh! I rhymed “irony” and “homey.” Maybe I should be a rapper, too ... uh, my boo. Damn. I good ... perhaps cuz I grew up in the ‘hood. Okay, perhaps I should quit now. Uh ... Chairman Mao? Yeah, I should quit.)